


Tremble Anyway

by james



Series: Secrets We Keep [2]
Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Genre: Flashbacks, Gen, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-14
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:20:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24174256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/james/pseuds/james
Summary: Ivan's got his mental health issues under control -- until he doesn't.  Sometimes neurological medications just stop working.  Ivan learns a lesson about asking for help.
Series: Secrets We Keep [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1744738
Comments: 26
Kudos: 92





	Tremble Anyway

**Author's Note:**

> Some vivid and some not so vivid descriptions and references to PTSD flashbacks, in part due to near-drowning, and general anxiety. Ivan refers to it all as "anxiety" but it's more than that. Please read with caution and take care of yourself.
> 
> I am planning for there to be a third story with Miles.
> 
> I honestly have no idea if this will remain Gen. *shrug emoji*

Ivan sighed and pulled the reader back towards him, resting it on his leg where he was slouched on his sofa. His mother would be appalled, of course, but Ivan had long since learned not to be paranoid that she knew everything he was doing in the confines of his own home.

It didn't mean she had no idea, it only meant he'd managed to stop being paranoid about it. _Mothers know everything_ was true, but moreso when one's mother had been working with ImpSec most of her adult life.

For all he knew, she was getting copies of all his messages even now, just like when he'd been ten years old and deemed responsible enough to have his own account so he and Miles could send messages to one another. The fact he'd only been allowed to send messages to Miles, or Gregor, hadn't escaped his attention even back then, but at the time it had felt like freedom. Until Miles told him their parents were reading everything they sent.

Miles had immediately declared they needed to use a secret code, of course, but Ivan was pretty sure that the one Miles had come up with and taught Ivan to use, had been broken pretty easily by all of their respective parents. But they got better at hiding the fact they were keeping an eye on the boys' shenanigans.

The message he was currently trying to avoid re-reading was practically in a code, itself. Names and numbers and dosages, known side effects and cautions all scribbled out like so many secret phrases. He knew what it said – he'd known, before he ever sent his own message, setting up the doctor's appointment, what the result was going to be.

Ivan tilted his head back, not in the least bit comfortable but staring at the ceiling was better than looking at the reader. It sucked, it sucked so very much, and even with access to Galactic medicine and science, Barrayaran doctors couldn't quite do everything Ivan wished they could.

His main anxiety med had stopped working, as neurological medications were wont to do (his doctor had given him a nifty lecture on it the first time this happened, way back when. Ivan had lucked out at his first prescription, getting a med that worked well enough he hadn't had to mess around finding another one for quite a few years.)

But a couple months ago he'd started getting nightmares again, the kind he couldn't quite wake himself up from, and during the day slight noises made him jumpy and twitchy in ways he couldn't control. Little things he could almost but not quite hide, and he knew from experience it would only get worse. He was used to feeling anxious, but normally he could still function. As long as his meds were working.

The first time he'd had to change meds, he'd stayed home during the transition period. He'd taken a week sick leave, calling in and claiming the flu, and followed his doctor's instructions to the letter. That time had required a gradual decrease before two days with nothing before starting the new one.

It had been one of the worst weeks of Ivan's life, because he'd discovered that when he was under-medicated, he forgot to do things like eat or take showers. His story about having the flu was accidentally corroborated by the weight he'd lost and the way it took him another several days to get back on track with regular meals, and sleeping at night instead of through the day like a normal person.

The second time he'd thought he was being clever, booking a reservation at a tiny desert resort. It was effectively Vor exclusive, not quite restricted access but a place where no one would bother him and no one would keep tabs on him. But they had offered room service and a dining room, and Ivan had assumed that that would take care of the problem of forgetting to eat when he didn't feel hungry or couldn't force himself into the kitchen to make a meal. It had been slightly better, but when he'd got home he'd realised he'd forgotten to fake the rest of his vacation – with no photos and no stories of the “friends” he'd normally have dallied with, Ivan had stressed himself out even worse trying to cover his tracks.

And that was the real problem. This would be so much easier if he didn't mind who knew. But once anyone found out, word would eventually get back to Miles – and despite the fact that not all of it was strictly Miles' fault..enough of the things that had scrambled his brain and made him quite so broken, were the result of things that had happened because of Miles.

Ivan absolutely did not want to be the focus of his cousin's efforts to Make It Up To Him. He couldn't deal with Miles being sorry, or offering to make it better. Not to mention there was no point in Miles feeling guilty; not everything was under Miles' control, no matter how much he would have protested that fact when they'd been younger.

Now, of course, as the parent of young children, Miles had learned that sometimes things were completely out of his control and you had to just sit back and let it go. Ivan could still see his cousin's hands twitch when he wanted to step in and direct whatever was happening during his kids' various games and adventures, but Ekaterin had sat on him (so Ivan presumed, it was possible Miles had actually figured it out on his own.) 

But though fatherhood might have changed Miles, it would not make him lackadaisical about knowing that Ivan was hurting. Which was why Vorkosigan House was completely out of the question.

Ivan knew he had to do something. He had to switch meds, which meant he had to stop taking his current medication completely and wait an entire week to let it clear his system so he and his doctor could begin the exciting process of finding a new med that would work.

Staying home was not ideal. Ivan had already been scolded by his doctor for dropping weight over the last few weeks when he hadn't quite noticed that his meds weren't working as well. Staying home in a cocoon of blankets and sweating it out wasn't going to be possible no matter how appealing it was.

Asking one of his friends if he could sleep on their couch might have been okay for one or two days. But for a week – maybe more if the first med they tried didn't take – wasn't going to work. He would have been able to ask his mother if he could stay at her place, except that yesterday she and Simon had left on a vacation, sorely needed and very long looked forward to. A cabin off in the mountains, with all the relaxing and far-away-from-it-all recreation they could ask for. His mother had been nearly giddy for the last few months in anticipation and Simon had taken to smiling like a love-struck teenager whenever she mentioned it.

His doctor had offered to admit Ivan to the hospital, where the nurses could look in on him and make sure he ate. But Ivan didn't think he needed that much care – and it would be impossible to keep that a secret, anyhow. He just needed to be someplace where someone would pop their head in two or three times a day, bring him a tray of food, and leave him alone otherwise. 

Being off his meds was horrid, Ivan hated it, and he didn't really want to subject anyone else to dealing with it. He needed a room off by himself, but with people nearby, and some security because otherwise ImpSec would throw a fit and... Well.

He'd known before he'd sat down what his best option was. He just didn't have any idea how to ask.

~ ~ ~

Eventually he just wrote a message. He could have called and gotten an answer right away, but a live conversation meant being asked questions that he didn't want to answer. This way, he could do his own research and figure out what Ivan was talking about without Ivan having to say it all out loud. So Ivan wrote his message out, stared at it for probably too long before slamming his finger down on the screen. Then he sat back and steeled himself to wait, maybe even until tonight or tomorrow, to get an answer. 

He probably should not have been surprised to get a response twenty minutes later.

_Yes, of course. A groundcar is on its way._

Which, right. He wasn't medically allowed to drive right now. Which Gregor probably knew. Which...made complete sense, because of course Gregor would know, whether he already knew or had done a remarkable job of getting caught up in the less than half hour since Ivan had sent his note.

He didn't know what to make of Gregor's lack of questions – Ivan's note had been as barebones as he could make it. _Can I have a place to stay while I go through withdrawal and my brain tries to destroy itself_ was difficult to phrase nicely, but Ivan was pretty sure he'd managed. 

But it didn't matter. He'd said yes, and Ivan jumped off the couch as he realised he needed to pack some sort of bag. He wouldn't need a lot of fancy clothes – Gregor wouldn't exactly expect him to attend state dinners in full uniform. But he grabbed a set of clean pajamas and his reader, already loaded with the books and musicals he'd picked the day before, when he had no idea where he was going to be locking himself up.

It was a good thing he didn't need more, because he kept finding himself standing in the middle of the room, staring at the walls and trying to fight off the feeling that he was making the worst mistake of his life. When the front door of his apartment opened, Ivan realised he'd heard a knocking, a couple of times.

One of Gregor's own guards stepped in, a worried look as he openly cased the area, before settling a calm gaze on Ivan.

“Sorry, sorry, I'm--” Ivan didn't know how to say it. _I can't make my brain function properly, because if I try anything I will drown._ His anxiety was screaming at him, worse now than an hour ago, but he'd _told_ someone, not just skirted the issue of his mother knowing, but he'd said it in a very few words and now he was--

The guard walked slowly towards him and reached out his hand for the bag Ivan was holding. “Did you want to bring anything else, Captain?”

Ivan looked down at the bag. “I don't think so?” If he needed something, the Palace staff would probably provide it, but what he really wanted was to go hide under his bed and pretend that this was all a bad dream.

After a moment of not moving, the guard asked gently, “Would you like me to take your arm?” Ivan couldn't remember his name. It was the sort of thing he should know. He nodded, and the guard came around, moving carefully in a way that was clearly meant not to spook him, and slid his hand into Ivan's elbow. It felt like someone had taken his arm to head out to the dance floor, and Ivan felt his body relaxing. Then the guard moved forward, Ivan's feet following along like they'd a mind of their own. _Maybe it would work better than the one I've got now,_ Ivan thought bitterly, and let himself be led down to the street and helped into the Imperial groundcar.

They repeated the process at the Palace, the guard moving easily like this was a thing he did all the time. He _knew,_ Ivan had realised on the drive, and the staff who met them clearly knew, and Ivan was starting to feel more exhausted than terrified. He was led to the private residential wing, which made him want to dig his feet into the ground, because he'd meant to be put someplace away from everyone, off in a corner somewhere where he wouldn't be a bother.

But his body wasn't working quite right, his mind starting to spin and it was just easier to do what he was told, and he found himself in the little brown suite just down the hallway from Gregor and Laisa's own private rooms, not all that far from the nursery. 

The brown suite was two rooms plus refresher, and it had had several names and purposes in its time. It had most recently been a library with a small office, back in Ezar's day. Serg had ignored it and someone, Ivan didn't know who, had turned it into this set of rooms. A bedroom in back and a small sitting room in front, a smaller version of the Imperial bedroom suite. The walls and furnishing weren't entirely brown, but that was the overall theme, and Ivan had always liked it.

There was a maid in the room, doing something at the side table, and Ivan found he really could care less. He went to the bed, let himself fall onto it sideways, and curled up.

If it felt this bad on day one, the rest of the week was going to be horrible.

There was a moment, then the guard asked, “Would you like me to get your boots?”

Ivan had to force himself to nod, and held himself still as his boots were removed, one by one, and he heard them land softly on the floor. Then a blanket was placed over him, and they were both leaving, the maid turning the lights down as they closed the door.

~ ~ ~

Ivan slept, and when he woke up he found Gregor sitting in a chair by the door. He was reading – working, maybe, Ivan's brain was fogged over and he had no idea how much time had passed. He tried looking at his wrist comm, but he couldn't make sense of the numbers. Maybe it was evening, but for all he knew it was tomorrow morning.

He pushed himself upright and Gregor glanced over, but waited patiently while Ivan staggered to his feet, went to use the refresher, then found a glass of water that had been left by the bed. He drank half of it, and discovered the metallic taste of enhanced water. Vitamins and minerals, and Ivan had tried to subsist on it once and gotten very thoroughly yelled at by his doctor.

“Ugh,” he managed, and looked at Gregor to let him know he could start in on whatever he had to say.

Gregor didn't have much expression – he never did, except when his children were around. But there was a hint of something, and his eyes looked sad, but what he said was, “When you say you hope not to be a bother, I assume you meant only to be polite and not imply that I would ever think that taking care of a family member would be an imposition.”

His tone was gentle, but Ivan could hear all the elocution lessons his own mother had given them. “Uh--” He began, and he knew what the safe thing to say was. 

Gregor's expression softened. “Your physician has been by to consult with Doctor Halfrise and they took a blood sample. They said they couldn't tell if you'd stopped taking your medication today or yesterday.”

“Yesterday,” Ivan said, then frowned. “I don't know what day it is now. But when I asked if I could come here, it was yesterday.” 

Gregor nodded. “It's early evening, yet, you've only slept a couple of hours.”

Ivan nodded, then – “Doctor Greson? He was here?” He was surprised and not entirely happy at how much his world was collapsing around him.

“Of course. Did you not wish him to continue supervising? He seemed perfectly competent, but if you have an objection I can easily have Dr. Halfrise take over.” Gregor frowned slightly, and Ivan had an image of Gregor completely re-arranging the entire planetary medical service to suit Ivan's satisfaction if he said the wrong thing. 

“No, no, that's... I've been seeing him the last decade, he knows my head better than I do, I guess.” Ivan rubbed at his face but it didn't seem to help. “I just...thought I would have a room and...get someone to make meals for me. I didn't mean to get everyone all--” He waved a hand to indicate...everything.

“While you are my guest you will receive all the medical assistance you require, Ivan, as well as anything else you wish.” Gregor made it sound like he was simply being a generous host, but Ivan could hear the Imperial Command behind all of it. Ivan would accept Gregor's _generous hospitality_ whether he liked it or not.

This was why he'd said he didn't want to bother anyone, he just needed a place to stay, with only a tiny bit of supervision.

It looked like he was getting none of that. This was worse than letting his mother fuss over him.

Maybe he should have booked a hotel.

~ ~ ~

Gregor left him alone after re-confirming everything Ivan's doctor had told him about what to expect. Then Ivan had tried to read for a bit, before finally changing into his pajamas and curling back up in bed. Someone knocked, once, to bring him dinner and he was grateful to see it was just soup and bread. He read for awhile longer, after the tray was taken away, then eventually he put the reader down and went to sleep.

He woke once, to nightmares, then couldn't calm down enough to sleep, so sat up in bed until dawn. When he fell back asleep it was morning, and when he woke again he found a light breakfast waiting on the nightstand. 

The day progressed slowly, spent mostly trying to read and trying to nap, and letting someone bring him a tray of food that he tried his best to eat. Dr. Halfrise stopped by once, confirmed over again everything Dr. Greson had said that Ivan had said again to Gregor. Ivan felt like writing it down on a card to prop up in the outer room so people would stop talking to him.

But otherwise he was left alone, which he appreciated.

The third day was much the same, except he'd slept even worse and he couldn't focus to read, and when he forced himself out of bed to try to not feel like an invalid, he couldn't do more than just walk aimlessly around the room. He relocated to the sitting room and switched on the screen to see if any of the vid dramas or musicals he usually loved could hold his attention.

He spent an hour watching bits and pieces of several of them before turning it to simply music and let that fill the room instead. It actually worked pretty well, though when a knock came at the door Ivan jumped. He took a moment to try to calm down, then tapped his wristcomm to let whoever it was know they could enter. A maid came in with another tray and behind her was Lieutenant Anna Vortrouss who cased the room very carefully, despite it being inside the private residential wing. The reason was behind her, as Laisa came in, holding her youngest son.

Xav was three months old, and one of Ivan's favorite relatives on the entire planet, only partly because he didn't make very many demands. Ivan loved all his nieces and nephews, but loudly professed a fondness for the baby not quite named after him. Laisa smiled at him and walked over, and dumped the baby into Ivan's arms.

It wasn't his first baby, which Ivan was grateful for because he neither juggled the sleeping boy nor felt like he was actually in danger of dropping him. Dropping an Imperial Prince was probably worse than dropping a regular baby, Ivan was sure, though the regular babies' mothers would no doubt disagree with him.

He watched as Laisa dropped herself into the chair paired with Ivan's, and she nodded as the maid left the room. Captain Vortrouss followed behind, closing the door and taking up position outside.

Ivan looked down to find Xav sound asleep.

“He's just eaten, so he should sleep for awhile,” Laisa said. Ivan glanced up, with no clue what he was meant to say. Laisa gave him a smile. “We thought you might not be up for the two-year-old whirlwind which is his brother, so we haven't actually told him you're here.”

Right. Ivan found himself breathing a sigh of relief. Normally he didn't mind the endless energy of a small child – knowing he could give them back and go home made it possible to engage them in games for hours until at least one of them was exhausted. But- not now. Now he could barely hold himself together. But this, Ivan thought as he looked back down at the baby in his arms.

He could do this. He loved babies – he never wanted his mother to find that out, because he absolutely did not want his own, thank you very much. But other peoples' babies, especially his relatives', were all right. They were the best when all you had to do was hold them, feed them, and change the occasional diaper. Which Ivan had done, if only because the first time Miles had insisted Ivan would never do it. So he had, letting Miles teach him how and ever since he'd never handed over a stinky baby unless the parent insisted, simply as a point of pride.

Xav wrinkled his nose as he slept, and Ivan just watched him. He could hear Laisa, dishes clinking as she ate her own lunch. Ivan was probably meant to eat lunch as well, but he was holding a baby and had no hands free and if no one was going to nag him he wasn't going to give the baby up. 

He had no idea how long he sat there, silently watching Xav sleep and Laisa – he glanced over once and she was reading, ignoring them both. Finally Xav wiggled a bit, frowning and puckering as he woke up. Ivan waited as he opened his eyes, not sure if Xav would recognise him or immediately demand his mother. He hadn't actually been here in a few weeks, but Xav looked up at him and pursed his lips, making a spit bubble.

Clearly Xav agreed that Ivan was a favorite relative. He found himself smiling, and Xav...may have smiled back, possibly not, but he was happy enough to stare at his uncle without crying. Ivan gave him a finger to hold as he waved one hand in his general direction, and Xav latched onto it. Ivan watched as he tried to focus, and let Xav yank his finger back and forth.

“Has anyone told you about the time your Da got completely covered in horse manure?” Ivan asked him. Xav didn't indicate that anyone had, so Ivan launched into telling him the story. He'd been only eight, himself, but he remembered enough of the details to share the story with Xav. It had, not at all surprisingly, been Miles' fault, but Ivan recalled that Gregor had agreed it was a decent enough plan to go along with it, during one summer out at Vorkosigan Surleau. Gregor's usual array of guards and attendants tried to give the young Emperor the illusion that he wasn't constantly being watched, and Vorkosigan Surleau was considered safe enough to let him run around and just be a child.

Even if it meant letting their Emperor become covered head to toe in horse manure. The escapade had been fun up until then, Ivan had to admit, and now of course it made for an excellent story to give Gregor's kids – and wife, who was listening raptly.

When Ivan looked over she had her hand pressed against her mouth, looking for all the world like she wanted to scream with laughter. Ivan grinned at her and gave her a wink. Xav glanced over as well and realised his mama was _over there._ As he took a breath to yell about it, Ivan handed him to his mother.

When Ivan leaned back in his chair he realised he was feeling better, and also that his hands were shaking. He tucked them under his arms, watched as Laisa assured her son she was never ever abandoning him, here she was, right where he wanted her, wouldn't he enjoy telling his Da about horse poop.

Ivan leant his head against the chair and closed his eyes, only opening them after the door opened and closed, and someone lightly touched his hand. Laisa was still there, Xav happily chewing on the edge of her blouse. A nurse was leaning over Ivan with a small med dispenser in her hand. 

He tried to remember – they'd talked about this, hadn't they? He nodded, because he didn't want to fall apart while Xav was right there, and he felt the sharp prick as she pressed the light sedative in through his skin. He glanced over at Laisa again and she gave him a reassuring smile, standing quickly and letting herself out, telling Xav how they'd re-tell Ivan's story to Gregor, later.

Ivan tried to breathe. The sedative was working quickly, but it wasn't very strong. He'd been told – right, he remembered he'd been instructed to ask for it at night if he needed help sleeping. Ivan raised his hands and pressed them against his eyes and everything was swirling and despite it, he felt calm and relaxed, like he didn't want to move. 

Someone took him by the arms, got him to his feet, then he was being picked up and carried. Someone must have got anti-grav gloves and he wanted to ask why, then Ivan felt the bed come up beneath him and it was dark.

~ ~ ~

The days got worse, as Ivan had expected. Gregor and Laisa took turns visiting, though Ivan couldn't always bother getting out of bed. He let the nurses give him sedatives whenever things got too bad, and he ended up sleeping through most of everything. 

By the time Dr. Greson declared his bloodstream almost clear, Ivan barely lifted his head from the pillow, waving a hand that they could get on with trying the next thing. He couldn't keep track of what the man was saying; he knew they'd discussed the next step and that it would still be another day. Ivan had agreed to it all, back when it felt like his brain was actually functioning. At the moment all he could hear was the rush of water in his ears and the cold, dampness against his skin. 

He knew he was imagining it, knew it probably wasn't real. But he could hear it, and feel it, and every time he closed his eyes the water crept higher. 

Hands held him down, at one point – maybe more than once, he couldn't tell, and sometimes sleep dragged him down so hard it felt like maybe he'd finally drowned, and was gone. He could hear singing, sometimes, lullabies, but not ones his mother had ever sung. Or a man's voice quietly speaking, though Ivan couldn't make sense of the words. 

He woke up and found himself being held, sitting up and leaning against someone's chest, one arm around Ivan's back and one in front of him, hand pressed against his head. Whoever was holding him was talking, quietly, and it was a voice he knew, but couldn't place. Ivan thought maybe he managed to beg, something, don't let me go; he didn't know why or what he was asking for but the man stayed with him, holding him still.

Then Ivan opened his eyes, and his mother was there, and for the first time in forever Ivan's head felt clear.

She smiled at him. “They've given you your first two doses. They think it's working as well as they hoped.”

Ivan remembered now, the drug they'd got from Beta Colony was supposed to be better for calming anxiety without numbing the brain. Ivan blinked as he realised he remembered that conversation, remembered it clearly, and – he felt okay. He felt calm, and relaxed, and in hindsight he realised he hadn't felt okay in months.

He pushed himself upright, leaning back against the headboard, and took a deep breath. He couldn't smell oceanwater, couldn't feel the phantom press of water on his skin. 

He felt _hungry._ He said so, and his mother touched the screen of her reader, tapping for a moment. Then– Shit.

“Aren't you on vacation?” Crap, maybe he was still hallucinating. Maybe- He took a deep breath and realised he wasn't panicking at all. He didn't feel sedated, like he often did when he'd taken his meds.

His mother gave him a very unimpressed look. “Simon and I are going to resume our vacation once you're settled.” The look on her face could be read, very easily. _You should have told me,_ came through loud and clear.

Once Ivan confirmed that he felt better, he was going to be in a lot of trouble. “When... uh when did you get here? What day is it?”

“It's Friday – you've been here nine days, and Simon and I arrived two nights ago. Gregor finally called and let us know what was going on.”

Aha, so Ivan wasn't the only one in trouble, he was pleased to hear. Not that being in trouble was ever good, but it was always nicer when you could share it with someone.

He didn't have to try to defend himself, however, as there was a knock on the door. His mother told them to come in, and Ivan saw a tray, laid full of food. Nothing like the bland, basic diet he'd been forcing himself to eat the last few days. He felt his stomach growl and managed a nod at the girl carrying it, settling the tray across his lap and he dug in.

His mother sat quietly while he ate, writing and tapping at her reader, which told him she was either working or drafting out the speech she was going to give him about telling your mother when you weren't feeling well.

There was no way he was getting out of that one; all he could do was tell the truth. He honestly hadn't been thinking clearly, not for the last several weeks, and despite the fact he knew better it didn't mean he'd been able to do any of the things he should have done.

He'd have to promise, next time, to tell her right away and he had a feeling she was going to ask how he was feeling, constantly. Well, there were worse things to have than an over-concerned mother. At least she lived in her own home, and had Simon and her work to distract her a little. He knew a guy whose widowed mother lived with him, and had no hobbies except trying to run her son's life, and Ivan was grateful for every single thing his mother had to do that distracted her from him.

Which was probably going to be none at all, for awhile. Ivan sighed. He'd brought it on himself, he knew, and he'd just have to suck it up.

As long as she didn't try to take him along on her vacation with Simon.


End file.
